


come morning light

by starlinks



Series: your lips, my lips (apocalypse) [2]
Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types, Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan, The Trials of Apollo - Rick Riordan
Genre: Bittersweet, F/M, God!Percy, PJO AU, Percabeth AU, percabeth, ylml
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-29
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:14:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28396746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starlinks/pseuds/starlinks
Summary: Stupid boy, she wants to yell accusingly. Why do you give your love out so freely? Why do you love someone like me?short, but (bitter)sweet. there's also accompanied art & an audio version of this
Relationships: Annabeth Chase/Percy Jackson
Series: your lips, my lips (apocalypse) [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1894051
Comments: 2
Kudos: 62
Collections: your lips my lips (apocalypse) inspired / au works





	come morning light

**Author's Note:**

> for duda. with love

**come morning light. a ylml work set somewhere around chapter 26**

[ audio file. ](https://godofbluefood.tumblr.com/post/638801750063710208/starlinks-come-morning-light)

It’s another morning, another day. The sunlight flows in softly, illuminating Annabeth’s bedroom. Percy has his back against her wide windows; the light flooding in behind him makes a golden halo around his hair.

She wonders if Michelangelo could ever imagine to capture all that divinity in any of his creations, on the happenstance that his mortal eyes are blessed with Perseus’s presence, or if Da Vinci (a supposed son of Hephaestus) would have the ability to frame such a sight into a painting. Surely, even the Louvre is not quite grand enough to deserve such a work of art.

Maybe she is lucky, but all Annabeth can think about is how each morning’s sunrise signifies that it’s another day closer until he has to leave. It’s not a constructive thought, but _gods_ , she just doesn’t want this to end. Hope dangerously, the older demigods would say, but dangerous hope can’t be healthy for her when she has it for every meal. 

Really, since when has the challenge shifted from Annabeth’s mortality to his? The possibility of his peril, all because he has to be used as a tool (as she had been many times) to defend the other gods against impossible threats? 

But he does not complain. Percy signs softly, closes his beautiful eyes, and rests his forehead against hers. His breath is light against her lips. Annabeth wants to kiss him but she knows he just wants to drink this moment in quietly. So, instead, she traces the crinkle in his brow with her eyes, all the way to his neck, where the iridescent waves shift and move under his skin. It’s a proxy for the power that courses through his being, the power that is only evident to those of whom that can see through the Mist. 

The shimmering lines ebb and flow, showing Annabeth just what he is made of. _The sea does not like to be restrained_ , Poseidon has said. Percy is a little like that: his love is wild and free and roaring, and it stretches around her, enveloping her in a warm cocoon. As it turns out, even gods can have feelings that are potent enough to be tangible if they really, really mean it.

 _I love you too_ , the daughter of Athena wants to say, but her skin itches and prickles underneath the smooth fabric of her grey silk robe when she remembers that she is just a distraction to him. Once upon a time, Annabeth would assert to her siblings that she would never choose an individual over the world, but would Percy do so? Would it be arrogant to think that he may throw it all away for her? Would it be selfish for her to finally admit that she, too, found someone who she would give up anything and everything for?

They are standing at the fringe of something, but it’s not the kind of anticipation that you get on the uphill of a very steep, very tall roller coaster. It’s the kind of apprehension that she’s only experienced at the edge of Tartarus, the kind that tastes like tar and bile. 

“Annabeth,” he starts, lips inches away from hers. Once, she thought that his lips tasted like the apocalypse. She just hadn’t realized how true that was.

“Percy,” she addresses him tenderly, wondering if he knows how much she yearns and loves him from just the weight of that emotion in her words.

“I love you.” He says, and her heart clenches.

 _Stupid boy_ , she wants to yell accusingly. _Why do you give your love out so freely? Why do you love someone like me?_

But she doesn’t say anything, because it’s too peaceful a moment for her to ruin. It feels sacrilegious for her to say anything at all, if she is unwilling to say it back to him. How can anything else be enough?

Maybe he doesn’t know better, or maybe he’s just trying to chase away her self-doubt, but he shakes his head slightly before leaning down and nesting it in her hair. 

She swallows her next words. It’s easier to stay silent rather than asking questions no one has any answers for, after all.

artwork by windbyfire. 

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End file.
